


The Thornson Place

by Backbiter222



Category: Original Work
Genre: Bedroom, Chairs, Clock, Death, Future, Games, Gen, Horror, House - Freeform, Monster - Freeform, Murder, Rooms, Smell, Table, Thornson, Time - Freeform, Wind - Freeform, clean, digital, doors, greenmil, hallway, kitchen, place, screams, sounds
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-28
Updated: 2018-09-28
Packaged: 2019-07-18 12:34:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,619
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16118558
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Backbiter222/pseuds/Backbiter222
Summary: There is a house sitting on a hill at the edge of the woods. Had you been there, you would see it looked normal, untouched. But had you been inside, had you really looked, you could see that not all was right.





	The Thornson Place

The house was dark. Dark and silent. The only light to be seen was the digital readout of the clock hanging on the wall.

It read 5:58.

The floor was spotless. If there had been light, it would have shined. If you had looked up, you would see that the light fixtures were free of cobwebs. If you had turned down the hall and looked into the rooms, you would see a bed, neatly made, in a clean room. There was a washed toilet with a spotless sink in another room. The third room was locked. The door looked as though it had not been opened in a long time.

It would not budge.

The fourth and fifth rooms were bedrooms, nearly identical to the first.

There was not an upstairs, but there was a basement. It was not as clean as the rest of the house. There were water stains on the floor and mildew clinging to the walls. There were shelves in the back, stacked neatly with games. Candy land, Parcheesi, Shoots and Ladders, Dominion, Spot It, Killer Bunnies, Monopoly. Children’s games.

On the wall, next to the stack of games, hung a collection of photos. Most were blurry or stained, but some were still visible. The most vibrant one was of a young woman with fiery red hair and a white gown running across a field. Under the photo was a faded name, with only the first few letters visible. C-a-l-a-n.

If you went back upstairs and looked closer, you would see that it was not as neat as it seemed. There was a thick layer of dust covering the counter. The line was broken in places, but mostly intact. If your eyes had drifted lower, you could see cobwebs clinging to the corners of the cupboards and the walls, but no flies struggled in their sticky, deadly embrace.

The digital readout on the clock changed to 5:59.

There was a smell in the air of the house. Mildew, rot, death. The first two were apparent in the basement and in the corners of the house. But not on the floor. The floor was spotless.

If you walked down the second hall, you would come to a back door. It was wide open, broken and splintered. There were leaves trapped in the webs clustering the door frame, but none on the floor. There was mold and mildew, as there was everywhere else, but it stopped short of the floor. A cold, wicked wind blew through the gaping hole, chilling the house.

If you were to follow the hall back to the kitchen, you would see five chairs around a table. The chairs were plastic and unchanged, pushed back from the table. Three of them were knocked over as if the people sitting in the kitchen had jumped up and run away.

But the wooden table in the center of them had begun to decay. Resting upon it were four bowls. Each had in them what once may have been food. In the center of the table was a gallon of long since spoiled milk.

If you had a good eye, you could see more dust atop the doorknobs and on the chairs. It looked as if the house had been untouched for years.

The digital readout on the clock changed to 6:00.

The lights switched on suddenly and an alarm began to ring out. As quickly as it had begun, the sound cut off. The lights, however, remained on. The stove turned on and remained on, the back left burner giving off heat as if to boil water. Or as if to make coffee. There was a pot sitting on the counter next to the stove, and next to the sink. In the sink were dishes covered in rotting food.

More food could be found in the refrigerator, still running, but long since ruined. If you were to open it, the smells of what once was food would hit you worse than anything else. There were trash cans laying around, too. There was on per room, each filled with trash that had never been taken out.

A humming noise began. If you looked at the floor, the spotless, pristine floor, you would see some sort of robot scuttling along, cleaning. It hurried to the bedrooms, humming all the way.

The digital readout on the clock changed to 6:01.

The front door began to creak and groan. If you were to look, you would see there was a figure trying to force their way inside.

The digital readout on the clock changed to 6:02.

The door burst open, spilling two people onto the floor. The first was a girl of about sixteen. If you had looked at her, you would first notice her hair, a vibrant red, and her braces. She wore tight jeans, a phone visible in the lining of the back pocket. Her skin was flawless, unscared. She yelled out as she toppled to the floor.

The other person was a boy of about 17. He, had you looked, had windswept black hair and a face to rival an angel. He too wore jeans, and a football jacket to match. He had well worked hands and large muscles rippling under his jacket. He too let out a short yell as he fell to the floor.

They both stood up and glanced around them. Had they been able to see down the hallway, they would have seen something moving towards them.

A humming noise began to grow louder, traveling closer to them. Had you been able to hear it, it would have sounded like the small robot that cleaned the floor.

The girl screamed and clung to the boy. He looked down the hall and laughed.

“There’s nothing to be afraid of. It’s just a cleanbot. This house really needs it.”

They continued onward. If you had been able to see them, you would have seen them making their way to the kitchen.

The digital readout on the clock changed to 6:03.

“What is that gross smell?”

“Spoiled greenmill.”

The boy and the girl wandered through the kitchen, touching everything. Their fingers dragged across the counter, and had you looked, looked really close, you would see it looked as if others had done the same.

The robot, the cleanbot, hurried after them cleaning the mud they left on the floor. They soon tired of the kitchen and moved on.

Had you been able to hear the sounds of the house, the woods, the night, you would have been able to hear them stop. Not a bird called, not a cricket chirped.

Not a breeze blew, not a leaf fell.

Had you been able to smell the air, you would have smelled the smell of death.

The digital readout on the clock changed to 6:04.

The boy and the girl walked down the second hallway, the one with the opened door.

“Wonder why this is open?”

If you could see them, watch them, you could watch as they closed the door. The door allowing animals to crawl in, for food to enter the trap.

They moved on to the first hallway. The boy walked into the first bedroom, kicking the trash can out of his way.

The digital readout on the clock changed to 6:05.

The girl followed him.

“Nothing here. Let’s move one.”

You could watch, if you were there, as they entered into the bathroom. They then moved on to the third room. The locked room.

The boy pushed on the door. It would not budge. He kicked it in frustration and it sprung open.

If you could hear the sounds around them, you would hear nothing. Not even the wind blew. The clean bot died, despite having cleaned the floors for years. Decades.

If you could smell the air now, you would smell rot and death, stronger than anywhere else.

The boy and girl continued on, oblivious to this.

“What’s in here?”

The digital readout on the clock changed to 6:06.

A low growling began. The girl's eyes opened as wide as they could and she began to back away, her breath coming in frantic pants, if at all.

She was lucky.

If you were here, if you were within a mile or two of this house, you could hear the boy screaming. He screamed and screamed and screamed.

The digital readout on the clock changed to 6:07.

With a sickening crunch, an ear splitting crack, the screaming stopped.

The sounds of the forest resumed, and the girl began to scream.

If you were here, you would see the girl running from door to door, finding them all locked.

All save for the door to the basement.

She rushed down the steps, finding herself in an inch or so of water. The growling sound resumed, getting louder. Something else began to follow her to the basement.

The lights flickered on and off. The girl backed herself into a corner, and finally stopped screaming.

The digital readout on the clock changed to 6:08.

If you had been here, you could have seen what she saw. The bones. Skeletons, complete and incomplete, human and nonhuman.

The digital readout on the clock changed to 6:09.

The source of the growling reached the girl.

Her screams lasted only a second longer than the boys.

If you could have heard the sounds of the house, you would hear the noise of the cleanbot, cleaning blood and mud. The sounds of a stove turning off. The sound of a back door opening and a creature returning to slumber.

The digital readout on the clock changed to 6:10.


End file.
